Necropolis
by Sanguinary Anima
Summary: He glanced around the crowded emergency room as people somehow continued to squeeze themselves inside... REWRITE
1. Chapter 1

Necropolis

By Sanguinary Anima

Chapter 1

David always hated the way hospitals smelled. Always that ever changing, ubiquitous smell that was anything from sweat mixed with cheap perfume to fast food and dirty diapers. Visits to the emergency room ranked several tiers lower than hell and he would sooner be at work and receiving his well-deserved termination instead. More annoying still was the growing volume of the unintelligible cacophony of voices not only smothering his own thoughts but also adding to the still growing pounding of his skull. He shut his eyes and massaged his temples while drawing in and then exhaling a large breath.

He thought of the evening before at the bachelor party thrown for his cousin. Seth was truly the only one of David's cousins, or family even, who acknowledged and enjoyed his company. In fact, after the Christmas cards from his mother stopped coming in the mail, about eight years ago, Seth was virtually the only family David had seen or heard from in nearly a decade.

He wanted to cringe but instead chuckled when recalling the evening at the bar. Seth's friends, from what he thought were an eclectic mix of guys at first, succumbed to the testosterone-driven, meathead, Cro-Magnon, and entirely tasteless idea of a good time: a strip club. This particular dive seemed cheesy enough at first that David thought it would at least be good for a laugh which inevitably resulted in heavy drinking and compliments from everybody who wasn't male. So when in doubt, or backed into a corner, drink. Drink, drink, drink, and drink he did.

He glanced around the crowded emergency room as people somehow continued to squeeze themselves inside, most having gone to standing as the amount of empty chairs dwindled. Men, women, and children of all sorts polluted his thoughts with their arguing about insurance coverage, bitching and moaning about having to wait (like everyone else) to be seen by a doctor, screams and laughter from unruly children, and all the delightful things that continued to add to how pleasant of a day he was having.

"I should just leave," he thought aloud. The looming presence of the police officer standing at the door glancing in his direction every so often suggested otherwise. He entertained the idea of stepping outside to use his cell phone. He would be calling the place he worked, is what he would say to the officer, that he had heard somewhere that use of cell phones in hospitals was prohibited because it disrupted life support equipment. The officer had offered him a handful of change from his pocket and pointed in the direction of a kiosk that held several payphones among hospital guides and health plan information booklets.

David did what he thought anyone would do. First he went to the vending machines a few feet further down the hallway leading away from the lobby area and purchased a bottle of water hoping the police officer was still watching and not caring the slightest bit whether or not his actions spoke of his maturity or now current lack there of.

He opened the bottle and greedily gulped down the contents wondering why the hell he had not taken the time to drink anything that morning before he had hurried off to work. Oh, right, late again. Late for work, call work. He glanced at the phones before he set down the water on the counter. Why had he not thought of it sooner? At light speed he was holding the phone and depositing coins.

He wondered as he punched in the numbers to his place of employment if they would even believe him. They really did not have any reason not to, or at least he had not given them any reason. He had been late well over a dozen times and he had never said anything but the truth, "Yeah, I'm late, sorry," in the year and a half he had managed to hold his job. Were it not for Troy, his team lead and friend from his high school class, he would likely be grilling fried animal flesh in some grease trap.

The phone rang twice before a woman's cheerful voice was the new railroad spike pounded into his skull. It was Jeanine, but then he knew it would be. Jeanine was a forty-something, with bright blonde hair, a little overweight, a meticulous wardrobe that had to be matched to each day of her work week, along with a voice that was as annoyingly squeaky as it was repetitive. She was _terminally_ happy.

"Kael and Barrett's Sporting-" David sighed as he heard the same exact greeting every time he either called work, walked into work, walked down the hallway to piss, or to the cafeteria to sit and stare out the window during lunch. How many times a day did this woman say that? He wondered, did she ever pick up her phone at home and greet people the same way by accident?

"Troy Donovan," he interrupted abruptly, "extension 356." There was an immediate click and instead of a ring tone he heard music. He had been put on hold. "Bitch," he muttered as he leaned against the kiosk. Yet another somebody had done a cover of Singin' in the Rain, though this time it sounded like a British twenty-something old man and actually quite good, "Answer your goddamn phone, Troy," he barked into the phone through his clenched teeth as the veins past his temples throbbed in complete synchronization with his heartbeat.

"Thank you for calling Ka-" David had never been so happy to hear his friend's voice, "Hey Troy, it's David," he interrupted in as sheepish of a tone as he could muster. David had known Troy since the start of junior high. In high school neither one had had much of a reason to talk to the other until both had tried out for the football team, Troy because he was the epitome of jock and David because their school guidance counselor had thought it would be a good way for him to release his stress and frustrations and keep him from fighting at school.

David did not last a week. He was promptly ostracized after executing before his peers a perfect roundhouse kick…across the side of one of his teammate's helmet during a scrimmage. The helmet's faceguard sailed through the air and ricocheted off of Troy's chest guard with the plunk of it being the only sound before an enraged football coach yanked David to the sidelines.

His only defense, truth, "He called me a faggot, Sir," even though his truth was completely contested by the peer _he_ had 'victimized'. Completely bullshit, and the coach was buying it and threatening with even having him expelled. His mother would be pissed and likely come after him with whatever blunt object was within sight. It all looked like a complete shit storm would ensue when Troy Donovan, the last person David expected, stepped up to the coach and told him what a load of crap he thought it was.

Troy Donovan, even at age fifteen, had been built like a big, black, brick shithouse. Likely to become captain of the team as he had the basketball team, baseball team, and the hockey team (he's really got that whole captain bit nailed) when he used to play, so he had some leverage. As Troy protested so did another player, and another, and another. Soon everyone said that David had actually been called 'a prissy little faggot knob blower', despite the actually derogatory insult used, and threats of expulsion withered to David simply being kicked off of the team and banned from any other high school extra curricular groups.

Since then, David and Troy were close.

"Four hours," came a very annoyed and low tone. David's eyes narrowed confused.

"Four hours what?" he heard Troy sigh.

"Four hours, David. You are four hours late for work, and you're calling me now?" There had to be something up if Troy did not at least have a little bit of patience unless that had been completely used up now. "Are you calling to quit or do you not know how to read a clock?" he demanded. Ah Christ, here we go. "Aidan gave me some lame ass story that you went to a strip bar late last night and this was after I threatened to yank his extensions out!"

David cringed. "Ugh, Aids got extensions?"

"I know, right?" Troy agreed letting down his guard for a second. "That is NOT the damn point David! Are you quitting or what? It's not like I'm taking bets on how long I can keep you employed or anything, but you have to realize you're really making me look like a complete idiot right now!"

Jesus, he _was_ mad. "Jesus, would you calm down Donno. I've got a migraine and I'm at the hospital." He rubbed at the endless, hangover-induced gunk that clung to his eyes and regenerated itself every ten minutes no matter how many times he rubbed it out.

"The hospital?" Troy asked, "You're at the hospital?" David rolled his eyes and nodded his head as though the space between himself and his now confused friend were feet apart rather than several lengths of telephone wire.

"Yes Troy, the hospital. That would be the reason why I am not sitting next to you arguing with some woman about why here son's jersey or shoes haven't shipped yet." He heard the sound of what might have been Troy slumping down into his desk chair.

"Oh," the stress and annoyance from his tone instantly had vanished, "well if you're at the hospital that's different then. Must have been one hell of a migraine. Why didn't you answer your cell though? I called you once every ten minutes for two hours." David sighed.

"Hospital, remember? I am at the hospital."

"Oooh, right."

He smirked for a moment before he noticed a hospital gurney explode into the hall with someone strapped down and two paramedics, a man and woman, attached. It appeared as though the man was having a seizure as he violently convulsed and thrashed several times against the restraints that bound him to the mobile platform.

"Secure the restraints!" the male paramedic in the front roared. It looked as though he were holding the man down by his neck, but as he stared David noticed it. The blood. The paramedic's hands were stained with blood, as was the majority of the restrained man's shirt near his jugular and shoulder. David could just barely make out the cloth, gaws, or who knows what, sandwiched between the male paramedic's hand and what was likely a large laceration and the source of the deluge of blood it erupted from. An elderly man who had been walking down the hallway and had passed David stood and took in the chaos, as did everyone else in the room beyond.

"Clear the hallway!" the female paramedic ordered waving her hand to sweep everyone out of the way. The older man hurried to the side and stepped the rest of the way back into the ER as the gurney rushed past. David held up the receiver as he tried to meld back into the kiosk as far as he could. He tried to just look off to the side before he felt something warm and wet close around his wrist.

"Hey!" he dropped the receiver and reached down to grab the restrained man's hand that was, surprisingly, like a vice gripping his arm. The man's eyes were wide and frantic as his breathing came in swift frantic gasps behind the oxygen mask covering it. The gurney came to a complete stop and the female paramedic stepped over and locked her hands on the man's. She looked up and David as he pulled his now free arm away, "Get back to the ER," she ordered as she refastened on of the three abdomen level restraints across the man's wrists.

David watched the gurney begin to move again and the man tremble and clench his eyes shut before bloody spittle splattered across the inside of the oxygen mask and over his lips. "Fuck." David gasped as the surreal moment had ended. He glanced down at the hanging receiver, with several questioning shouts barking from the ear speaker, when he noticed the bloody handprint around his wrist. He slowly picked up the receiver and turned to put it to his ear before jumping and nearly dropping it again. He cried out surprised at the police officer from the door now standing next to him.

"You need to come back in the room now son." David stared at the officer in shock, not turning away, as he slowly put the receiver to his ear. "Troy, um, I'll call you back." He hung up the phone and nodded before he stepped past the officer in tow. He walked back into the room and took a seat next to someone he did not even bother to look at. Okay, what had just happened? He heard the sounds of sirens outside off in the distance. What on earth was going on today? He jumped at the sound of a door near the receptionist window opening. He heard a low chuckle to the chair to his left.

"Jumpy, ain'tcha kid?" David was about to turn and tell whomever it was next to him to mind his own damn business when his head snapped in the direction of his name.

"Is there a David?" there was a Hmong woman in her early thirties wearing a white lab coat over a pair of khaki pants and a blue turtleneck. "David Collins? David?" The same elderly man from the hallway nodded cheerfully and stood up. While the old man slowly walked toward the woman David presumed was a doctor, she smiled meekly at him before she looked back into the room; the previous, tired, look of stress loomed once again over her face. Her eyes fell and met David's and he her lips curled into what might have been a true smile had her eyes actually squinted and the rest of her facial muscles relaxed from frowning the whole time.

"Guess your name ain't Collins." David's head turned away from the Asian doctor and the elderly David Collins to where the voice originated from a very gruff, and sinister looking man. He wore a stained navy blue flannel over a white, also filthy, a-shirt, a Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap, and grimy blue jeans that fell over the kind of pair work boots you might see on a masonry or construction worker. His greasy hair was cut short and he looked like he hadn't shaved in well over a week.

Gotta love the Midwest.

At his arm what might have been a white cloth rag, now red as the blood it was stained with, was wrapped several times around and secured with a blue button that read **I support Gay Marriage**.

David smirked for a second upon noticing before turning to meet the husky, unkempt man's gaze, "What the hell happened to you?" he asked nodding at the wound. The man, still grinning, looked down at his arm.

"Oh _this_?" he held up his arm. " Just another day at the office," he chuckled before it became a haggard cough that suggested he had smoked far too many of the Camels he reeked of. David nodded, his face entirely devoid of concern, before turning back toward the receptionist window.

The emergency room was well over three quarters full now and almost everyone present appeared visibly injured in some way. Cuts, bruises, even a few missing fingers from an aged Hispanic woman who kept rocking back in forth, whimpering and holding the her overzealously wrapped hand while a younger woman, either her daughter or granddaughter, spoke to her gently in Spanish, the sound of it annoying David for whatever reason, though it likely had to do with the angry Hispanic customers who would call to complain at work.

"Name's Jonah," the man began.

"Of course it is," David replied under his breath. The automated doors exiting straight into the parking lot came to life and departed from each other as a man wearing jeans and a black leather jacket stepped into the ER. Had his slicked back hair been blonde and not a sort of scintillating tricolor of auburn, chestnut, and amber threads as the light bounced off it, David would have hoped and prayed the man would sit next to him so he could promptly inquire as to when the next James Dean biography would be released direct to video and TNT. He couldn't help it.

"Check out the pretty boy," Jonah muttered and then chuckled. "Nice hair." David scoffed.

"You wish you had that hair," he said. Jonah let out a half laugh half cough before he leaned back on his chair and put his foot over his knee. David tilted his head to the side to look at him. "Of course, it's not like you'd wash it or anything."

Jonah snorted, "Ah bite me you little prick." David chuckled and looked over at the man in the doorway who was speaking with the officer and brandishing his wallet for him in a gesture that screamed member of law enforcement.

"Aw Daddy, don't you wish?" David countered looking back for a moment at Jonah and then at the man and the officer who both appeared to be looking directly at him. He began to sit up in his chair before he felt pressure against the top of it behind him. Upon glancing over his right shoulder he noticed, resting on the top of his chair, was a grimy hand attached to a grimy arm that was attached to the grimy man he had just insulted.

Jonah winked at him. "Maybe I DO wish." David slowly put his arms up in protest as he shuddered and turned away. "Oookay, we're so out of here," he replied standing up. He was about to hastily exit the ever-growing hell scenario when he found the man from the doorway in front of him. He blinked once or twice before trying to step past the guy in front of him with beautiful yet piercing blue eyes that were only a single shade apart than those of a Siberian husky. People are definitely not supposed to have eyes that colored.

"David Wraith?" he greeted. David used the now conjured memory of his constantly mispronounced name to shield himself from the tractor beam of the man's creepy dog eyes. Jonah gave a half chuckle half snicker and David closed his eyes and sighed at the second batch of fuel. He was annoyed now.

"It's Raith."

"I'm sorry?" the man said. David opened his eyes and looked into the face of the very patient looking individual in front of him.

"It's pronounced _right_ not _wraith_." The man looked at him as if there was some sort of point that had eluded him. "It's German. You are?" The man held up his wallet revealing a badge.

"Detective Krueger, homicide." Jonah whistled and crossed his arms while looking the away from the overused used greeting David had thought was only heard from detectives on boring television drama. He and, to his relief, Krueger both ignored the obnoxious man. "I have some questions for you regarding the accident you were just in."

David narrowed his eyes and turned his head slightly. "Okay? But you're like a homicide detective, and I didn't really kill anybody, soooo?" The officer from the doorway appeared at Krueger's right. He had a nameplate above his shirt's right pocket that read Jacobson "Doctor Xiong says it's fine if you use one of the examining rooms but she said she'd like to check and see him for anything from the accident-"

"Which was about two hours ago," David interrupted, Jacobson and Krueger both turning to look at him, "If you don't mind," he scowled while rubbing the temple at his left eye. Krueger nodded to Jacobson who turned to walk back to his position.

"I'll go see if there is a doctor who can take care of that for you before we begin." David gave a fake smile, his eyes lying completely. "Oh good." Krueger, though annoyed at his belligerence, smiled. "Why don't you take a seat here for the time being?" He pointed to the chair behind him. "I'll try and hurry back." And with that, he was off toward the receptionist window.

David looked down at his seat that now held one of Jonah's outstretched legs. Jonah looked up and puckered his lips in a kiss before grinning. David sighed, "If you don't mind," and put a hand up motioning at the seat.

"Oh no, not at all." Jonah replied lifting his leg from the chair. David contemplated for a moment before slumping down into the seat defeated. This was turning out to be a real shit day. He glanced over at the man's arm.

"So what happened to your arm?" He asked again. Jonah scratched at his cheek and looked like he did not appear to have heard him.

"I already told you what happened." He said. David rolled his eyes.

"Uh huh. 'Kay but no bullshit, what actually happened to your arm?" Jonah turned and gave him a no nonsense look that only made it all the more intriguing in spite of his failed attempts at making the best of the situation. "Come on, tell me." Jonah actually sighed and sat up in his chair.

"I was driving my truck," he glanced at David, "Truck driver."

David raised his eyebrows up, clearly not surprised. "Of course." Jonah put his hand up to his mouth and coughed before he began to speak again.

"I was headed up from my last stop, down in Beloit. The road's are a real bitch right now, people all must be on their way to some kind of event or show or some stupid shit, all of 'em driving like a bunch of dumb cunts." A woman nearby, with her hands over the ears of her daughter in her lap, turned to cast a baleful glare in their direction.

"Okay, so you're a truck driver and you're driving. What happened?" Jonah cleared his throat appearing annoyed at David's lack of interest.

"Like I was saying, I was driving and then I see this idiot hobbling on the side of the road. Didn't know what the guy's damn problem was and I was sure he wasn't in any accident because I didn't see a wrecked car or nothing. So I see this guy go a few feet and then drop like a sack of potatoes." He shook his head. "And do ya think any of those other assholes would stop to see what happened? Nope." David sat up further in his seat.

"But you did, didn't you?"

Jonah glanced back to David. "That's right, I pulled over." He shifted his weight in his chair for what seemed like the second time, and David was beginning to see he was uncomfortable. "Yeah, I got out and I go, "Hey, hey Mister. You okay?" and I wait a few seconds before I start walking over to him, he looked all messed up."

David tilted his head to the side. "Messed up? What do you mean?" Jonah waved his hand in a thinking kind of motioning.

"Messed up, you know. Like someone beat the shit out of him or something, all banged up." David nodded as Jonah continued. "So I said I started walking over to him when the fucker just sits up and then stands up, straight up fast, like not a damn thing happened." Jonah chuckled. "A minute ago this guy looked like he couldn't walk for shit and now he's straight up like a hard on." David cleared his throat and tried not to let his gaze meet any of the other menacing pairs of eyes belonging to the people whose attention Jonah's crude storytelling had caught.

"So what happened to the guy? What happened next?" Jonah cleared his throat and tugged at the almost nonexistent collar of his undershirt. He glanced down into David's lap.

"Lemme see that water bottle for a sec," he said. David looked down at the half full bottle of water sitting between his legs. He handed it to Jonah who immediately opened it and took several gulps before handing it back. David looked at the bottle and then Jonah.

"You can keep it." He replied only slightly mortified. Jonah took a sip of the bottle.

"I asked him if he was okay. I didn't think he heard me at first, maybe the noise of all the cars on the highway. So I said it again louder and then he turns and looks at me. His face…" He took another pull on the bottle, the contents nearly empty. David waited for him to continue when he noticed a familiar pair of jeans standing in front of him; he glanced up. Krueger had returned.

"Okay, let's get you checked out, shall we?"

"Any nausea at all, or just pain?"

The light in his eyes intensified the headache all the more as David fought to keep them open. Not Doctor Xiong, but instead Doctor Porter, who preferred to be called just Emily, shined a light into both of his eyes during the standard poke and prod procedure. Her blonde hair, long, was tied back away from her face in a bun and she smelled like lilacs, a scent he might have appreciated had he not drank five plus shots of tequila and god only knew what else the night prior.

"Just a headache and a hangover." He grumbled. Krueger appeared amused.

Emily placed the penlight back into the left breast pocket of her coat. "I think you're going to make it." She smiled. "Just no driving the next day after going on a bender, okay?" She glanced at Kruger. "He's all yours." She said turning to walk away.

"Thank you." Krueger replied still leaning up against the sink counter. David shifted his weight on top of the cushioned examining table as the tissue paper cover underneath it crinkled and began to tear a bit. "Comfortable?" Kruger asked.

David put his hands down at his sides, gripping the cushion. "Not really, no." Krueger nodded.

"Beats sitting in a chair for an hour, you should be thankful."  
"How long is the going to take exactly?" David asked. Krueger, the annoying, smug smile still across his face, crossed his arms.

"Well I suppose that really depends on you." He rested his hands at his sides, sort of mirroring David, while gripping the counter top. "I'll make this quite clear and simple, not to insult your intelligence but to try and hurry this up. You play nice, I'm nice, you're a prick, and I'm a prick. If you tell me what I want to hear and answer my questions, you can go home and sleep. You bullshit me, and we can sit here as long as you want, or go downtown for a change of scenery. Your call." David sighed and looked away.

"You can cut the tough guy detective crap, it's lame." He looked back at Krueger who, for a moment, appeared taken back by the remark for a split second before instantly revamping his composure. "Besides, why wouldn't I tell you everything? I haven't done anything wrong, all I did was bring some whacked out chick to the hospital."

Krueger pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Yes, the girl you brought here," he glanced down at what were likely notes, "Megan St John. Did you know her at all?"

"Nope."

"Okay." He began writing. "So you were on the way to work, and what, your cell phone rings," he looked up as he gestured each possibility with a circular wave of his pen, "And you're too busy talking and paying attention to what your buddy's saying and you end up smacking some girl?" David began to scowl.

"No," he said through clenched teeth, "That's not what happened at all, she ran out in front of me. Did she say that or something?" he demanded. Krueger, still not looking up from his paper shook his head.

"No she's been out like a light since she got here apparently." David sighed. "Just making an assessment." David crossed his arms.

"Oh really? Who've you been talking to then? Only one I spoke to about it was receptionist, some doctor, and that cop out front." It clicked in his head. Jacobson. He was the first person he saw when he burst through the doors of the emergency room. He had likely been the one who had alerted Krueger and kept David confined.

Krueger glanced up. "As I was saying, making an assessment." He turned the pages of his paper pad. "Okay, let's hear what you have to say. What happened David?"

David sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

-2-

_Sometime earlier_

The smell of her was absolutely abhorrent. Imagine someone rolling around in a pile of cigarettes and then, after working up a sweat, rotating in a circle as a water cannon filled with a cheap, headache inducing perfume for ammo began to spray. Yes, the result of such a possible yet unlikely scenario was what was sitting in his lap right now, or at least it smelled that way. She wore black stilettos, which stepped on his feet more than twice, followed by an impossibly short black skirt, adorned with enough glitter and dangling beads that it was more of a costume than a garment someone should be out in public in.

Abdominally garment-wise was a simple black halter-top that she pretended to unfasten constantly, which at first was sort of comical because it was not sexy at all. Now after the tenth time it was just repetitive and annoying like this place and all of the people in it: stereotypes galore. Her dark brown roots, nearly an inch long, indicated a dire need of a dye job.

This was hell.

The music pumped out of the speakers of the club and, to his light relief, almost everyone in the club who was not pouring alcohol had begun to dance-tether their somehow clothed bodies to, around, and through each other. The girl continued to grind further down his lap as he relaxed. She smiled at his ease but had no idea that it was because he was just happy he no longer had an audience. He noticed Seth walking away from the DJ tower grinning from ear to ear giving thumbs up and smiled back. What a jackass but at least he had saved him from further public humiliation.

He turned back to the new friend he had made who had also gone to sort of dancing with everyone else in his lap. He sighed relieved; he was just a piece of furniture now. A waitress walked-danced past carrying a tray with now one less shot glass of whatever had been on its away to someone else who had paid for it; he really did not care. What he wanted was to stand up, but at the same time he did not want to be rude-mostly to Seth, who really just wanted everyone to have a good time. He could give two shits about someone who preferred this profession to being something a bit less degrading. His legs, unfortunately, had other plans and he was easily pushed back down.

She smiled as she traced a finger from his very short hair and down his equally short beard. "What's your hurry baby?" she purred. If only you knew, he thought, but she'd likely be pissed.

"Need another drink," he replied putting his hands on her forearms and drawing her far longer than he'd like acrylics away from his face and eyes, "Lemme up."

"You already got one though," she said. He cocked his head to the side providing an expression that might have said, "It's empty retard," as he held up the glass devoid of anything but ice and gave it a little shake. She giggled, "Wow, you do need another one!" She had to be a little tipsy herself, though he could not detect any alcohol on her breath. This, however, might have been due to his holding his own breath the majority of times she spewed forth fumes of nothing but noxious, nicotine filled nonsense each time she opened up that gateway to hell she had painted up slut red prior to punching in to work.

He stood up and swayed after the first step, grasping at the wall railing. She giggled at him before she noticed a group of rowdier men, whom had been making their way closer to the two of them, namely her, all night, sit down at the table adjacent to theirs. The ringleader, a shorter, husky, meathead, likely a frat boy lord or a regular, exclaimed loud enough for the both of them that she ought to come on over to a real man. That was fine with him, and if there was in fact an actual real man in sight, they could send another one over to him. He could use the ride home anyway.

…Five tequila, six tequila, seven tequila, door…

An alarm suddenly seemed to sound as he half waved to a laughing Seth who waved back calling out protests to his sudden departure. Wonder if it's a fire? Nobody seems to be worried and he was the only person headed to the exit. Odd. His cell phone ringing was his next surprise when it exploded in his pants. Hey, at least something managed to explode in his pants this evening. Thought how on earth could he hear a Silversun Pickups ring tone, and from inside of his pocket no less, in this noisy place? Whatever, so out of here, he thought as he let the phone ring and turned to continue leaving before he slipped and watched the world spin from club, to ceiling, to upside club, and then to black.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he noticed were his feet over his head. As his vision adjusted he glanced around the room or rather the hallway of his apartment. His legs were propped up against the wall the rest of him completely sprawled out on his back. His cell phone began to ring again and somewhere he thought he heard an alarm clock. He reached into his pocket and silenced the mobile device before putting it to his ear.

"Hello." He croaked out of his mouth, dry as death with likely the stench to match. There was a familiar laughter from the other line.

"D?" It was Aidan, his best friend and coworker. When the two of them had been hired, it had been at the same time. Both had sat through orientation and training together, Aidan welcoming and friendly and David reluctant and skeptical due to Aidan's unusual, 'alternative' appearance.

Aidan existed an ever changing, enigmatic, parody of society and an amusement to some while a perverse, sexual deviant to many others. David, in one of several displays of shallowness, judged Aidan who noticed immediately on sight and the two nearly grew to dislike each other. Had it not been for another coworker, one of many overzealously religious individuals, constantly taunting and tormenting Aidan because of his sexuality, the only thing he and David seemed to have in common, David would never have gotten in the man's face and threatened to tear his head off AFTER having him fired for sexual harassment.

Things immediately took an immediate 180 for David and Aidan, and thus the Pink Posse' was formed. It was entirely Aidan's idea. It only annoyed David.

"That isn't even very original." David had muttered at the table in the cafeteria after several people, Troy included, had finally stopped laughing.

Aidan scoffed after taking another bite of his salad. "Um, yeah it is," he said through several chews of romaine, "I just thought of it bitch." David rolled his eyes.

"God you're dumb." Aidan began to laugh.

"You're just jealous that me and my creative genius came up with something first."

"Oh yes, your astounding intellect clearly has me envious."

"There's a good girl admitting it." Aidan said through yet another mouthful of greens.

"Damn Aids," Troy said annoyed, "you know you really could actually chew your food before you talk." Aidan's head swung to the side.

"Hey! Don't CALL me that." David grinned at the use of the nickname he had given Aidan when they had first begun to address him with it.

"You could chew your food with your mouth closed too you know." He suggested. Aidan turned his head in the opposite direction and chewed his greens obnoxiously in imitation of a cow in David's face. He turned back to Troy and continued the silly display and all three began to laugh.

"Nasty bitch." Troy chuckled.

"Your mom's a nasty bitch." Aidan retorted knowing full well that Troy took EVERYTHING to heart when it came to the subject of insults to mothers, or at least his. Neither David or Aidan really knew why, perhaps it was some kind of residual effect of years of hardass jock persona or perhaps he was simply wired that way. Regardless, they both liked Troy even if they were still looking for an instruction manual.

"Oooh no, giiirl, no you did not." Troy said in a surprisingly prissy, effeminate tone while waving his finger in Aidan's face and moving his head back and forth to the side. This was new.

"Ooh girl, you gonna get ghetto on me now?" Aidan said making a convincing display of dramatically tossing his fork down his salad and reaching for his bag as though it was a weapon or at least housing one. "Bitch, I will cuuut you." David yawned before he leaned back into his chair and, using his nonexistent telekinesis, attempted to make the hands on the clock move toward punch back into work time.

"You know, posse wouldn't work anyway."

Aidan and Troy both turned to look at him simultaneously. "It's _posse'_." Aidan said matter-of-factually in all seriousness. David laughed.

"Whatever, but a posse is a group of men either way, not a pair." Aidan just stared at David who grinned. "Unless you were planning on recruiting breeders too." He replied jabbing his thumb at Troy who chuckled as he stood up.

"Who's got the bigger intellect now?"

Aidan scoffed at the remark. "Ah suck it bizitch." Even David had to laugh at Aidan's weak comeback. Troy guffawed at the both of them before, in a split second, he reverted to his a no nonsense expression.

"Nah, I'll leave that to your boyfriend." He mocked with a grin while stepping over to toss the remains of his finished lunch into the trash. Aidan crossed his arms while David no longer appeared amused.

"Filthy Negroid." Aidan muttered under his breath before grinning at David.

"I HEARD that!"

Afterwards, despite any previously interjected logic, the Pink Posse' remained a posse still with Aidan as president and whole representative while David, not that he wanted to be, was simply appointed and referred to as the muscle. Troy and Aidan were easily two of the few people David would never tire of being around, although right now one of the pair giggling at him on this morning of all mornings was beginning to cause an even larger headache.

"Yeah." He said rubbing his eyes with the fingers. He winced as the throbbing in his skull shot through his body toward his stomach, which answered back with a horrid, gurgling sound that likely would have translated to, _Oh thanks a lot. You're in for a real shit day now_.

"Um, do you know what time it is?" Aidan asked.

"I don't even know what day it is." David coughed before he stopped to listen to the annoying noise that had been present during his dream and now: his alarm clock. "And that's my alarm clock," Aidan laughed at that, "How late am I?"

"Yeeeeaaah, um how about we just say very and you throw some clothes on and get down here before Leanne notices." David slowly sat up feeling a brief sliver of relief.

"Before she notices? Whether or not I'm there on the dot is her first order of business usually."

"Well, lucky for you I haven't seen her all morning which would pretty much just mean you answer to Troy."

"Yeah," David sighed remembering how to work his feet and legs, "because that's going to be a walk in the park." He muttered sarcastically.

"And it serves you right, you lazy bitch." Aidan retorted annoyed. "God, first Delilah now you. Who the hell am I supposed to go eat lunch with?"

David nearly dropped his phone. "What a minute, did you just say Delilah? What did you mean first Delilah now me?"

"No call, no show."  
"NO fucking WAY. You're joking. That girl's never been late for anything in her entire life." Aidan chuckled at their shared shock.

"It's true, I tried calling her first and it just rings. I must have left her five different messages before Troy recovered from shock. If Leanne was here he was actually going to consider leaving and driving out to her place himself to see if there was some kind of emergency while I called the hospitals." He cleared his throat. "But getting back to your lack of punctuality, well yeah, we're all your friends David, but we shouldn't have to cover for you on your job."

"I know."

"And it's not like you just HAD to go out to some seedy bar with your cousin or there would be some horrible consequence."

"I know." David staggered into his bedroom and kicked a shoe off at the now silenced alarm clock.  
"God, and it was a straight bar-  
"Yeah, I know." David threw his work clothes into his gym bag. Better if I change there anyway, and thank god for lockers.

"Probably not a bent man in sight-"

"I know."

"Well what was the damn point of going then?" Aidan demanded. "You know what forget I asked, just get in the shower and wash that nasty mess off of you, because yo' ass do stank! Might as well, seeing as how you're late already and all." Growing more annoyed, and clutching the cell tighter and tighter, David sighed.

"Yep, I know Aids."

"And I'd be more worried about getting oral thrush than taking the time to brush your teeth considering there probably isn't a living microorganism left in your mouth at all after all the tequila you-"

"I KNOW Aidan!" David roared into the phone. "Goddamn, why the HELL am I still on the phone with you?" he demanded. He cringed as Aidan actually gave a tee-hee before answering.

"Because you loooove me, that's why."

David scoffed, "Oh yes, like a cluster of hemorrhoids." There was a gasp from the other end.

"You don't mean that."

"I'm hanging up now." David said and flicked the cell phone shut and tossed it next to the sink before he hopped into the cold shower. Eight minutes later he was clothed and locking his apartment door from the outside and glad for having such short hair. He hurried down the steps and out of the building into the back parking lot provided and reserved solely for residents. After climbing into his well overtired, once black, and now sun bleached, sort of gray Chevy Malibu he said a quick prayer to car heaven before he turned the key in the ignition. The car engine roared to life with almost no protest. Things were looking up.

Aidan would just say that he should take his car to Jon, which would likely lead to complete repair, a deal on that even, a free paintjob, hell, maybe even a whole new car. Of course, that would mean he would actually have to see Jon. Once upon a time ago the two had dated and, while not incredibly short-lived, the two had parted on only somewhat friendly terms.

It had seemed really nice at first. Here was a kind, intelligent, and very attractive man with whom to hang out or jump in the sack with. He got clingy, as was the typical problem accompanying this particular malady. He began to come over too much, which really was okay at first. Though soon David found someone wondering where he was, filling his refrigerator for him, or an entirely clean apartment when he woke up 'the morning after'. He finally drew the line when he reached into his underwear drawer and found several pairs that were clearly not his own.

This was too much, too fast; he needed space. It seemed that Jon was only a little disappointed at first when he said he was okay with that. So he was more mature than most men David had been around, point for him. He was back at his place now, but he still called everyday. David became more and more annoyed and turned his cell off so he would not have to silence his calls or read his text messages-THAT feature was quickly removed from his cell phone package. Before long, everyone else had begun to complain that they could not reach him because his phone was always turned off.

It pretty much went kaput after that. Now once in a great while one would call the other, and David liked it that way. Just friends.

The highway, strangely, was crowded at first despite the hour of the day. He had counted there not being the normal car-to-car traffic that he endured on the particularly early shifts he was some days scheduled. Let's hear it for open availability. After about twenty minutes it let up and he zoomed further toward his execution. The now second wailing of sirens filled the air. That was two ambulances now. David sighed. Any minute traffic was going to clog up which way he was driving, he just knew it, and yet it surprisingly did not.

"Odd." He glanced around. The traffic was suddenly becoming scarcer by the minute and he did not know what to think. David defaulted all thoughts and hypotheses to divine punishment for irritating his friends with his lack of responsibility. His phone screamed to life from the passenger seat beside him. As he reached for it, diverting his eyes for barely a second, a shape streaked out into the road and directly into the path of his car.

"Oh shit!" The cell fell into the crevice between his emergency brake and his seat as his right hand joined its partner at the wheel he frantically swung to the left. The world was suddenly an explosion of color and sunlight as his tires squealed across the road. The car jerked to the stop, David jerking with it and slamming into the driver's side door. There was a white flash accompanied with a faint moment of pain to his left temple before he found himself dizzy and sitting back in his seat. He checked the side of his head for blood and there was none, or at least not yet. Awesome. The driver's side window also appeared to him to be intact despite his head smacking it; awesome times two.

It was one of those moments where time freezes and had there actually been cars about on the road their horns would certainly be protesting to car being sideways in the middle of everything. He rubbed at his head and groaned and turned to look up and nearly jumped out of his skin as there was suddenly a furious, frantic pounding at his window. She had mousy, shoulder length hair and her pale, freckled face was adorned with several small cuts. Her chocolate eyes wildly scanned over him and the road behind them both. There was no way she was older than seventeen.

David opened his mouth and knew that he should be screaming at her for running out into the middle of the road and his car, and yet it simply hung open as his brain, now throbbing, tried to process the surreal moment that had just occurred.

"Please! Please, please let me in!" she screamed. Her pale blue dress, patterned with small blue and green flowers was torn where her shoulder was visible among the straps. Several drops of blood adorned the soiled garment as well, and there was blood on her arms. Where those handprints? David snapped out of it and, for whatever reason, reached over to the passenger door and unlocked it. No sooner had he turned to do so, the girl sprinted around past the front end of the car and to the door.

The slam of the door interrupted him before he could ask if she was okay. He opened his mouth to try again before her head jerked over her shoulder. Her eyes were suddenly saucers again when she whirled back to face him. "Go!" she screamed.

"Wait! What the hell is going on?" David roared trying to put himself more in focus and less in shock. "Are you okay?" He watched as she put her hands to the sides of her head. She clenched her eyes shut, whimpering, as she furiously shook her head back and forth. "Hey?" David reached for her shoulder, "What's your problem?" The moment he touched her she jumped and gave a shriek.

"Just go!" she screamed. "Go!" she struck the dashboard of his car, not that it annoyed him. David simply wanted to know what was going on or whether or not he had injured her with his car.

"Hey, just calm down-" he began. She began furiously pounding on his dashboard.

"Go! Go!" she screamed over and over again as she struck the dashboard each time. "Go-go-go-go-go-GO-GO-GO-GO-GO!" Fine then. David started the car and maneuvered the vehicle back into its correct place into the street. The girl immediately stopped screaming and collapsed into the passenger seat. David glanced at her and then at the rearview mirror. It looked like there was someone running into the street from the trees quite a distance from behind them. The person, thing, he just could not tell from so far away, appeared to be heading in the direction of the car.

"The hell?" David shook his head and floored it.

"So, you have no idea who it could have been?" Krueger asked. Emily had brought one of the cushier chairs from the receptionist cubicle for him to sit in while David recollected the late morning's experience.

He sighed, "No, none. I keep telling you, Detective, I don't know the girl so even if the other person on the street had something to do with all of this I've got no clue who it is,"

"Couldn't see who at all? Guy? Girl?" he looked up from his paper pad again. David put his hands up. This was pissing him off.

"Okay, really tired of going in circles here." He thought about standing up but decided better against it. "Late for work, drove to work, girl jumped out at me, girl is apeshit, we drive to hospital, and here we are. That's IT." He stared at a completely unfazed Krueger and sighed. "Christ, is she even okay? Where's she from? Did you contact her family or anything?" Krueger shook his head.

"House and property was vacant, nobody home." He put down the pad and leaned against the counter. "There was indication of a possible dispute, but not too much past that. I was waiting for any word back from the officers posted there but still have yet to." He rubbed his eyes and for the first time seemed to actually look less composed. David shrugged.

"Okay, abusive family then. Maybe her dad kicked her ass." Krueger chuckled. "Okay," David continued, "Well she was obviously attacked. How far were we from her house?"

"Less than five minutes on foot, Detective." Krueger smirked. David rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Ah Christ kid, don't get all bent out of shape. You're way too serious for your age, loosen up."

"I'm hung over, I'm late for work, I just had a car accident, no wait, I had a car accident HOURS ago, I've been sitting in a hospital all day, and now I'm here with you and going nowhere. I'm sorry I'm not the bright little ray of sunshine you are right now Detective, really I am, but it's been a real shit day."

Krueger nodded, "You're telling me." David narrowed his eyes, curious at the remark. "But it's been a shit day for you, me, and a whole lot of other people today. Just take my word for it." David stood up finally.

"Can I go?" he asked. Krueger stood up from the counter and exhaled.

"Yeah, I think you might want to be getting home now." He walked towards the door; David followed and waited for him to open it. Krueger grasped the doorknob and pulled open the door. He turned to David, "You have family at home waiting for you or anything? Anybody you can call?"

"Yeah," David lied, "but it's know big deal, I mean I'm good to drive if that's what you mean." Krueger turned and stepped through the open door into a noisy hallway with David at his heels. "It's not." He replied.

The waiting room was swelling with people now. Just about everyone appeared injured in some kind of way, one man in particular clung to whom was presumably his wife. His tattered face swayed back and forth as he rocked against her, obviously in shock. His now asymmetrical white shirt, its left sleeve completely severed and exposing a still bleeding arm, was stained crimson all the way down past his waist toward his left leg. The woman held what looked like a dishtowel over an already crudely made tourniquet covering his left bicep.

"Jesus." David gasped. "What the hell man?" he glanced at Krueger who continued to take in the chaos surrounding them. Several hospital staff began sweeping the room, wheeling in wheelchairs, talking to injured or frightened people, and overall doing their best to reassure everyone that they would be able to see a doctor as soon as possible.

"It's like this all over," Krueger glanced over his shoulder, "and I mean everywhere. People rioting and random attacks, accidents, some fires. You better head home. We'll call you if any-" he stopped as they heard a shriek from the woman holding the man with the injured arm, now sprawled out on the floor at her feet. David noticed Krueger step forward and grab the man by the arm.

"What are you-"?

"What are you going to do, huh?" David asked. Krueger looked at him for a moment and then the man, who had begun to spasm in the woman's arms.

He sighed. "I guess you're right." The two made an attempt to step forward and found their path suddenly blocked by the majority of the people in the room who had either stood up from their chairs to either rush closer or perch over the top of those in front of them for a better look at the spectacle. One of the many orderlies whom had been coming in and out of the room hurried over to the couple on the floor. The woman had gone into hysterics and clutched the very still man against her as the conscious one looming over her, even crouched down, was attempting to help.

"Miss I need you to let go of him," he replied reaching toward the man's face to check for a pulse, "I need to check his pulse Miss. Miss?" he looked over his shoulder at Jacobson, "Can I get some help here?" The officer immediately made his way over to intervene while everyone else seemed to just watch completely dumbfounded.

Jacobson crouched down and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry ma'am but we need you to let go of him so we can help." The woman glanced up at Jacobson and reason appeared to return to her eyes. She blinked several times before she the hysteria began to slowly dissolve. She let go of the man with one hand to wipe at her eyes. His body slumped backward from the absence of one of her arms and hung limp and lifeless, his hand making a slapping sound as it fell to the floor.

David was completely absorbed in the scene before him. All he had wanted was to hurry home, screw calling work, get back into bed, and wait for the headache and the hangover to end. Now, even as his mind strained to remember his original plan of escape, the walls of flesh in front of him now blocked his exit.

"He's dead," the woman sobbed, "he's fucking dead, isn't he?" The Orderly ignored her and reached forward towards space on the man's neck that would either still be throbbing or still. Just before David and Krueger could tell whether the look on the Orderly's face would indicate good news or bad news, a woman pushed her way over into their view.

There was a scream followed by, "My finger! He bit off my fucking finger!" It was the orderly. The woman screamed and several people scattered through the room, some flying straight out the door. David stood frozen like stone among the stream of people hurrying out of or further into the hospital. Through the blur of people David saw Jacobson trying to pry the now conscious man from the woman whose throat had his teeth buried in it. The Orderly clutched at where his finger had once been struggling to stop the geyser of blood spurting from it. Jacobson looked over at where David was standing.

"Detective!" he roared making David remember who was standing with him. Krueger plunged forward through the mass of frantic people and took hold of the crazed man. A large chunk of skin, flesh, artery, David could not even tell what the mouthful the man was ripping out of the woman and taking with him as the two officers yanked him from the woman in an explosion of gore and ruined flesh. The man seemed to take advantage of the strength of the men pulling at him and turned into it letting go of all resistance ending the tug of war with the three of them falling to the floor, but not before grabbing Jacobson's arm and sinking his teeth into it.

"Shit." David took a step forward, uncertain of what to do. The man was now on top of a screaming Jacobson who was trying to yank the man's head away from his arm. Krueger was on his feet in the blink of an eye and trying to pry the man from the officer. A paramedic stepped through the doors and the people being expelled from it and rushed over to the woman now choking on her own blood as she tried to push back the ruby ichor cascading from the hole above her jugular. She gave a half exhale, half cough before she fell into his arms and went limp.

"Oh god!" he looked at the crazed man struggling with the two officers and then to the Orderly who sat staring in shock. "Daniel what the fuck!" he screamed at the Orderly who did not move. "I need some help here! Miss!" he set the woman down on the floor and immediately peeled off his coat, and from out of nowhere he suddenly seemed to have a compress that he pressed over the woman's neck. Why was the room still full of people? A great deal of those waiting were backed up against the wall or each other, not knowing anymore what to do than David.

"She's not breathing!" the Paramedic shouted to whomever was listening. He checked her pulse and suddenly he put his hands together over her chest. "Daniel come here and help me goddamn it!" Daniel's eyes widened as the Paramedic's head snapped back to notice the woman's hands locked around his. She opened her mouth and a horrible inhuman shriek erupted from it before she yanked him toward him and sank her teeth into his throat.

Run, David thought. Run, run, run. Suddenly a dark shape stood in front of him. Before his eyes even could adjust to what the blur was in front of him, it had him by the shirt. Jonah shook him and then let him go as he picked up a chair.

"Get the hell out of here kid, go!" he barked before turning and hurrying over past the officers to the woman rolling on the floor with paramedic she had in his teeth. The sound of the chair smashing the woman's skull was what did it and David turned and ran into the hallway away from the screams, toward more still.


End file.
